Vulcan has no moon
by Black Alnair
Summary: “I’ve felt like this since day one,” she whispers. Conversations in the moonlight. Spock/Uhura origins.


Title: Vulcan has no moon

Summary: _"I've felt like this since day one," she whispers._ Conversations in the moonlight. Spock/Uhura origins.

A/N: Much thanks to my betas, spocklikescats and slwmtiondaylite!! Their great work is reflected throughout.

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Star Trek.

***

I.

Vulcan has no moon that rises to greet the night but it has three brilliant suns that burn all visible hues of red as they set into the horizon. The Vulcan sky is afire for hours as the plasmid orbs make their slow descent, and if its natives would or could admit it, they would say that this beauty precludes the need for any contrasting woman of the night. But when once its ancestors would spout poetic verse and speak in similes, the Vulcans of this post-awakened period would be banished for admitting such sentiments. And while Spock has left by choice, as he watches the Vulcan suns set together one last time from the shuttle window, somehow knowing but not knowing that this is his final view, he feels like an outcast.

***

II.

The sun sets in twenty-six minutes and thirteen and two-fifths of a second in San Francisco. For Spock, this is but the blink of an eye. It is gone before it can be savored. And even if it could be, it is dull in comparison to the slow burn of a home that is also not his home.

Now that he is here in San Francisco, he does not dwell on his displacement. To do so would be illogical. Given that the decision that led him here was his own, casting an unfavorable light on his spatial locality is something akin to regret for his actions and nostalgia for Vulcan. He admits he indulged in such reflection while on the shuttlecraft but after meditation, he has determined that neither of these feelings is acceptable.

Thus, as he watches the sun set through a gap in the canopy surrounding the Presidio, he quantifies this Terran phenomena. He can bring up the image of a thousand Vulcan sunsets in his mind as though they are right before him. He superimposes them on Earth's and he compares and contrasts the colors, the hues. Not as deep, not as varied, the result of one sun, not three, something that cannot be replicated. His conclusion that the sunsets here are inadequate is thus logical.

When dusk finally descends, Spock turns to leave. He does not notice the moon hanging high in the Earth night sky.

***

III.

"You look displeased."

Spock does not immediately turn his head as he fights the feeling of irritation that rises in him. He has come here to watch the sun set since the first day he arrived at the Academy. This location is off the main path and up a hillside so few people even pass this way. Of those who have, none have disturbed him before. And certainly, none have suggested that he does something as undignified as display an _emotion. _

There are four point six seven minutes until all the scattered light will dissipate into the darkness. He considers ignoring his unwanted companion for the interim. However, he is already distracted. He swallows uncomfortably, trying to tamp down the swell of his emotional response, before tilting his head towards the intruder. He notices that she is not wearing a red Starfleet cadet uniform. Rather, she is wearing colorful civilian clothing that seems to be of African origin. She is still attired imprudently for the cold night.

She is regarding him with wide curious eyes and it makes him feel like a specimen in a bottle. He averts his gaze. He dislikes being stared at, like he was back at Vulcan, like he was when he first arrived at Earth. Like he still is. There is silence and then she sticks out her hand and says, "I'm Nyota Uhura."

Humans always seem to be in need of physical contact. Spock has adapted to this custom so it is only with slight hesitation, after he has ensured his mental barriers are up, that he reaches between their bodies to shake her hand. It is unremarkably cool to the touch.

"Cadet Spock," he says shortly.

Nyota Uhura is not deterred by his lack of openness. "I have never met a Vulcan before," she says, leaning forward. "I didn't know you guys even _had_ emotions_._"

The irritation Spock felt earlier, the one he had still been struggling to push down, rises up again, so fast it nearly makes him lightheaded. He can feel it in the tips of his ears. He wants to snap at her that _that much is obvious_ but reminds himself that her statement is a common misconception of his species, particularly amongst humans. Still, no one has actually _said _it to him so directly.

And of course, the irony of the situation does not escape him. On Vulcan, his eyes were too human. Here on Earth, his looks and mannerisms are entirely too Vulcan for him to ever be treated as a human. As far as he is aware, no one even _knows _he is half-human. It is a misconception that he allows because physiologically and culturally, he is too Vulcan to be human. Emotionally – he has no means to quantify this, no point of reference, as the first and so far, the only Vulcan-human hybrid. His father once called him a child of two worlds. His father is Vulcan and his words were literal and accurate. Spock, on the other hand, is not entirely Vulcan and he has come to understand that there are worlds between and beyond what is literal and what is accurate. Perhaps, he will find it in the uncharted space he will one day explore. But he hasn't quite gotten there yet and he can't help but wonder how his father could be so myopic.

It takes a moment to realize the girl is still talking though he has failed to respond. "I am applying to the Academy for admission next fall. I am going to major in Xenolinguistics. All my instructors have told me I have a natural talent for languages," she chatters on, her beaded braids swinging around her shoulders.

Though all Vulcans are touch-telepaths, Spock's talent in telepathy is particularly extraordinary. He can pick up emotions when in close proximity with another sentient being. This baffled the Vulcan scientists his father had examine him in his youth. They thought that his human blood would have weakened his abilities. It was Amanda who suggested that perhaps it was his _human _blood that enhanced his abilities to make empathic connections. He was a child then and still smiled. He remembers smiling at his mother.

Now he is fighting back a frown. He can feel this Uhura's unbridled excitement. Her emotions are a jumbled mess and worse of all, they are saturating the air. He tries to reinforce his mental shields but her insistent babble and feelings are making it difficult for him to concentrate. It does not make sense the way she is going on – talking about Starfleet Academy as though she has already been accepted, talking to _him _as though he has any interest. He tries to remind himself that she is young – probably only sixteen – but it does not help abate his irritation.

"Everyone says Starfleet is so diverse and certainly, there are a lot of Federation planets, but I have only seen a few off-worlders at the Academy. And no Vulcans! I've been here for three days and you're the first Vulcan I've seen."

"You have already mentioned that." He sighs inwardly and ponders the best method of getting rid of her.

"Are there many other Vulcans at the Academy?"

"I am the only one."

"The only one?" She steps even closer and Spock has to fight the urge to step back. "Why is _that_?"

Spock forces himself to look her in the eye. She is inquisitive, straight-forward and thoroughly annoying, like many cadets at the Academy. She will fit right in – unlike him. "Most Vulcans choose to remain on Vulcan."

"But you didn't."

"No."

She cocks her head to the side as she regards him. He steps to the side but she follows. He is again fighting the urge to frown. "Is there anything else, Ms. Uhura?"

"You never answered my question."

"I do not see why I am obliged to." He says it before he can stop himself. "Furthermore, Ms. Uhura, may I make a suggestion to you?"

"Yes," she says nodding eagerly.

Spock presses his lips together before speaking. "The Academy has been criticized for producing officers who know their material but do not have the sense to apply it in a practical manner. I can only conclude from your intent to major in Xenolinguistics that you will be tracking for a communications position. A communications officer cannot succeed by mere aptitude in languages alone. A communications officer must also understand the species with whom he or she communicates."

"Maybe you should teach!" she says brightly.

Her failure to register his criticism frustrates him and he drops any semblance of politeness, turning and marching away when she calls to him in the language of his ancestors, "It must not be easy being the only Vulcan here."

He pauses mid-step and turns back to look at her over his shoulder. The moonlight is in her hair and for the first time he notices she is uncommonly pleasing to look at.

***

IV.

"You never stay to look at the moon."

Spock blinks. He did not notice her approach. He finds this disturbing. He has been taught to be always aware of his surroundings, even if his focus is directed elsewhere. That he has become so absorbed by his daily ritual of observing the sunset will require further meditation. He already knows that his actions are illogical. There is no purpose to watching it, much less doing it every day without fail. It provides him no pleasure or greater comprehension – except perhaps the knowledge that he is deficient as a Vulcan in controlling himself and subject to emotionalism that even humans would call weak.

Even so, he will not permit expression if he can manage it. When he turns to his companion, his face is carefully blank. Though it has been over a year since they first met – three hundred and seventy-eight days in fact – he remembers the girl standing next to him. He has an eidetic memory, after all.

She is wearing cadet reds now and her hair is styled differently, pulled up high and falling down her back in a straight fall. She is not looking at him but at the moon. Her face glows in the light.

The implication of what she has said does not escape him, though the motive does. "How often have you seen me here?"

"Every time I pass this way," she says.

He immediately realizes that she is being purposefully vague and it frustrates him to know that he is being watched. But another part of him is curious. He has been stared at all his life but rarely has anyone found him worthy of constant observation. "You have not approached me again," he ventures.

"Well," she draws out the vowel and looks at her feet. "I sort of realized that my company was not exactly welcomed that first time."

This statement is accurate. He had found her presence irritating, her easy confidence and open curiosity annoying. He had also found her beauty distracting. The memory of her speaking Vulcan still burns in his mind, brighter than the sunsets he watches from this hillside.

"Your presence now is not unwelcome," he says and this statement is more than accurate.

"What does the moon look like from Vulcan?" she asks, the words spilling out of her mouth as though if she does not say them now, she never will.

He is puzzled by her change in topics but then again, he has never been able to follow the logic of a human's train of thought. "Vulcan has no moon," he replies.

"That's a pity." She steps closer to him and he finds that he is not troubled by her emotions as much as the first time. For one, she is projecting calm, not excitement. And there is something else there, not quite quantifiable, not literal and beyond his capacity to accurately describe. He thinks perhaps he should apologize to her. For what, he is not quite so sure. Maybe for not liking her immediately. But then, she is talking again. "If you stay sometimes, you can watch the moon with me."

Looking into the depths of her eyes makes him uneasy. They are so open and it is an intimacy he is not used to. He looks away but not at the moon. "Maybe some other time, Cadet."

"Of course, Lieutenant Spock," he hears her whisper as he walks away.

***

V.

"You're back!"

He can feel her relief and joy before he actually sees her. It surprises him and he pauses in his ascent. His eyes had been on the horizon as he struggled up the hill on one bad leg. It is apparent she was in a seated position as she is now scrambling up. She trips down the hillside to him and reaches for his arm but pauses at the last moment.

"I…I've been learning about Vulcans in my interspecies ethics class. I wish I could have taken it earlier. There is not much about your people in the literature but…" She trails off for a moment and drops her hands. He finds himself uncharacteristically disappointed at this. "I apologize. I won't touch you. I can't believe I forced you to shake my hand before," she says with a small laugh. It is strained. "I was just thinking maybe you needed a little help."

The smile on her face wavers a little as she looks up at him. There is some feeling he can't quite figure out vacillating beneath the surface of her smile but her relief and her happiness are so strong, he finds himself unable to focus on it. Instead, he finds himself leaning forward as though pulled in by her emotional tide. He does not know the source of her feelings though everything but logic suggests that it is him. Granted, he believes she would call him her friend but the strength of her feelings is nevertheless baffling.

Prior to leaving for his tour of duty on the _Intrepid_, he and Nyota would often meet on this hillside. She never approached him at sunset again but he always lingered slightly after and on occasion, she would arrive, always with a handful of books or PADDs in her arms. He would then walk with her back to the dormitories. They would make their way at a leisurely pace in the dark and he would make several offers to carry her materials but she always refused, saying she was more than capable of doing it herself. Indeed, she was more than capable as a cadet. He found her very studious and bright and indeed, gifted in languages. They talked about many things from the Academy to literature to Federation politics but they spoke little of their personal lives. She never mentioned Vulcan or even the moon ever again. This is the first time she has brought it up since their first meeting.

Vulcans are a reclusive species and he has, like every other cadet at the Academy, taken Interspecies Ethics so he knows what she has learned. That Vulcans are touch telepaths, prefer minimal contact and live according to logic. That they are three times stronger than humans, are vegetarians and can meld minds. The literature and as far as he could tell, the instructor of the course failed to make the connections between each fact. That, despite their capabilities, logic and personal preferences prevented Vulcans from using their abilities except in limited circumstances. That, despite their strength, Vulcans did not eat the flesh of another being because they did not believe in unnecessarily harming others. His classmates, unable to connect, had looked at him with a mixture of horror and suspicion. A mind melder? Three times stronger than humans? His strength was often tested by the more assertive cadets and as on Vulcan, he showed he was more than capable of handling any physical attack.

Of course, there was also much about Vulcans that was not in the literature, that was not known to off-worlders. Their history, their traditions, their inner politics, their emotional capacity. She does not know this, only the same things other cadets at Starfleet have learned. Yet…he looks at the rapidly descending sun for a moment before turning to look at Cadet Uhura and her open wide eyes. "I would appreciate your assistance. I am afraid with my injury, my progress up this hill has been considerably impeded." He doesn't really need to add the next part but he does. "As I am half-human, physical contact is not so offensive to me."

"Half?" she mutters and he wants to understand the expression on her face, the slight widening of her eyes, the tilt of her mouth but he forgets about it in the next moment when she does take his arm and is smiling as wide as ever. "I always knew there was something special about you, Lieutenant Spock."

No one has quite worded it that way before. He wants to inquire further but does not know what to say. In any case, she is talking again. "While I am glad you are back, I am sorry about the circumstances that occasioned your return. No one wants their tour of duty to end early and by injury no less!" She eyes him sharply. "Are you even supposed to be walking on that leg?"

"Cadet Uhura, let us not miss the sunset."

"Of course not. I would never dream of it," she says as she leads him to his spot – her spot – perhaps their spot. He wonders if she has come here all alone those two years he was away serving on a starship. "What will you do now? Will you return to the _Intrepid_ once it is repaired?"

"No, the ship was too damaged to be repaired. It is going to be scrapped for parts. Captain Pike has been offered a position with a new Constitution-class starship. The _Enterprise_, in fact. He will be overseeing the construction and staffing of it. I will be his first officer once the fleet launches. Until then," he turns to her and he feels the corners of his mouth quirk a little. He does not suppress it. "I was thinking of teaching."

She smiles. "You would be a wonderful teacher. Maybe I can take one of your classes."

"I hope so, Cadet Uhura."

"I'll make sure I do." They are silent as they return their gaze to the setting sun. Just as dusk is about to descend, she leans her head against his shoulder and whispers in his ear, "By the way, congratulations Lieutenant Commander on your promotion. I think, to celebrate, you should stay with me until the sun rises."

***

VI.

"I can't believe you said all of that!"

Nyota Uhura is charging up the hill, waving a PADD in her hand, all smiles. She is breathless when she reaches the top but her face is aglow from the exertion. "Lieutenant Nyota Uhura is the top student in my class. I cannot fully express the pleasure of teaching such a talented linguist. Her gift for languages and knowledge of Xenolinguistics is unmatched. Her mastery of phonology, morphology and syntax in a wide range of languages is truly impressive. Moreover, she has shown an unparalleled ability to identify sonic anomalies in subspace transmissions. Given her work ethic, dedication and drive, I have full confidence that Lieutenant Uhura will continue to perform admirably in whatever future endeavors she chooses to pursue." She finishes reading and lowers the PADD before looking at him.

Spock lifts an eyebrow and she laughs. It is a response that he now expects. The first time he did it and she laughed, he feared she was mocking him but then she had reached up and traced his eyebrow lightly with one finger. Ever since he first allowed it, she touches him – casually, fleetingly, but he does not protest, does not even think of protesting. "That is a confidential document, Lieutenant. You are not supposed to have possession of it nor be apprised of its contents. Nevertheless, everything I said is accurate. You are my best student."

"Was," she corrects. "I am not your student anymore."

Spock nods in agreement though he is not quite sure why she has corrected him. She rarely engages in an argument on something that is of little consequence.

"I bet when you first met me, you thought I was this know-it-all brat," she says after a moment.

"I cannot imagine why you would be under that impression," he says, lifting his other eyebrow. She knows this is a sign he is joking. Yet, her expression becomes somber. He presses his lips together in consternation. He has never been able to interact with others with perfect ease, whether Vulcan, human or any other species. At times, he even feels uncomfortable with Captain Pike and here, now with Nyota, there is miscommunication.

"I was trying to impress you, you know."

He can feel his eyebrows come together in confusion. "Pardon?"

"I thought if I talked myself up, you would be…" She waves her hands vaguely in the air.

"Impressed?" he ventures.

"Yes. But you were clearly annoyed and I forged on anyway. You were very polite nonetheless," she smiles softly.

"I believe I was very rude in the end actually." He never did apologize for it. He tries now. "I can only express my regret for allowing my emotions to control me. I hope I did not cause you offense."

"I kept coming back, didn't I? You were right though."

He inclines his head in query.

"You said a communications officer cannot succeed by mere aptitude in languages alone. A communications officer must also understand the species with whom he or she communicates."

He cannot help but stare at her. It has been nearly four years since he has made that comment. Yet, she has quoted his words exactly.

She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eye. He does not look away. "I hope I am coming to understand, Spock."

Spock. No reference to rank, no formal address. Just Spock. He does not correct her. After all, as she has pointed out, she is no longer his student and they are not in a formal setting where rank even matters. "Spock" – it sounds…nice. If he could laugh, he would laugh at himself. "Nice" is such an imprecise word.

"Your progress is most impressive."

She smiles, wide and brilliant, and he does not realize until later that he has missed the sunset, that over twenty-six minutes and thirteen and two-fifths of a second have passed while he has stared at her face. It is a whimsical thought but he wonders if all three Vulcan suns could have set while he stood here with Nyota Uhura and he would have failed to notice. Somehow, he feels this is not a waste of time.

"You're going to serve on the _Enterprise_," she is saying.

"Yes, I know."

"I'm going to get assigned to the _Enterprise_," she says, nodding confidently.

"I believe so. Given your current performance, you have a ninety-three poi-"

But before he can finish, her cool hand is covering his mouth and she is shaking her head. "Spock," she smiles. "We're going to be in the stars together."

***

VII.

"Lieutenant Uhura, may I ask why you approached me that first night?" It is the first time that he has initiated a conversation with her. She has always been the one to approach him, talk to him, cajole him to do this or that. He has always been curious about _why_ but somehow, he fears the answer even without knowing what it is. Illogical, he knows, but he cannot help it. He has been spinning theories in his mind for ages. She said she had wanted to impress him but that does not bring him any closer to her actual motivations. It would seem that the most logical thing to do is to just ask her. As she is about to graduate and he will soon depart for some trial runs of the _Enterprise_, it is now or never.

She does not respond immediately and when he turns to her, he sees that she is watching the sunset. Though he is not looking at the rapidly changing horizon with her, he is reminded of another sunset. He recalls the last time he had seen all three suns set in Vulcan and the feeling of loss that occurred and his long and futile attempts to understand it. He has been aware for some time that he has no place on Vulcan, that he did not belong and would never belong. Yet, it is the place he calls home and its suns he sees even when there is only one before him.

"Because you looked lonely," she says finally.

Spock wants to protest, wants to explain to her that he was observing the sunset and he had always done it by himself, that he did not need company for such an activity. Of course, he does it with her now and sometimes, often times, they stay late into the night, until the moon is shining bright in the sky, but this does not mean he was experiencing a need to be with someone at that moment. In fact, he had been irritated at her arrival. But when he speaks, he finds that he means every word of it. "You have an uncommon ability to read the way people feel."

"What you feel," she says as she turns to him with her eyes. "Do you suppose it's Vulcan or human?"

There was actually a time in his life where he tried to determine the source of every feeling, action, thought. He tried to compartmentalize everything as either Vulcan in origin or human in origin. He thought if he could do this, he could deal with it in the Vulcan way and better control the turmoil within. "I do not know. It is just me."

She smiles. "It is just you." There is bit of awe in her voice and he does not know what to say but Nyota always does. "I hope you aren't lonely anymore."

He shakes his head without turning away. "I am not right now."

She steps closer as is her wont but unlike usual, she is nervous. He can feel it. He tilts his head down towards her. "You are nervous."

She seems a little startled and looks as though she is about to take a step back but does not. "You're becoming good at reading me."

"Maybe." But he says it with doubt. He is not doubtful of his empathic abilities. "I can feel it though."

Her eyes widen. "You can feel it? But I thought Vulcans are touch-telepaths. We aren't touching…yet."

He lifts his eyebrows. As Nyota has advanced in her studies, she has become more careful with her words. He knows then that the 'yet' is intentional and he is sure that his feelings on the matter are now coming off him in waves. "Emotional transference occurs with skin-to-skin contact but if an emotion is strong enough, I can feel it. As you are talented in reading emotion in another's body language or expression, I am talented in making empathic connections."

She nods and this time, steps so close, he can almost feel _her_ though they are not touching. "Can you feel everything I am feeling now?" Closer, he realizes her emotions are a jumble, as on the first day they met. It overwhelms him but he is so familiar with Nyota now that he can marshal his control and concentrate and sort them out but somehow, he does not think he needs to do any of this. He has not always understood more subtle human emotions or ones he is unfamiliar with, but he _gets _it now. He gets it all now.

"I've felt like this since day one," she whispers. The sun sets, the moon rises, and the sun comes round yet again, the sky a kaleidoscope of colors and landscape that is never the same each moment. Yet, for two constant observers, it all goes unnoticed.

***

VIII.

It is not unusual for his mother to call him at his office, though he would prefer it if she only called him at his quarters where he has more privacy. Still, her calls are not unwelcome and he accepts it promptly.

"Mother," he greets.

"Spock." She smiles with ease. "How are you faring, my son?" As a boy, his mother would ask him how he felt. When he was six, Spock told her that he could not answer such a question, that while both Vulcans and humans possessed feelings, he had chosen the Vulcan way so he did not express his feelings. Amanda had nodded in understanding and accepted his decision without question. She had always accepted him – all of him – without question. Looking at his mother's smiling face now, he finds that though it is incomparable to a sunset, being of different form and of an entirely different composition, his human part, his Vulcan part, all of him wants to say that Vulcan needs no moon – there is a woman there who serves as both his sunset and moon. He settles on something simpler instead.

"I miss you, Mother."

Amanda's eyes widen in surprise, her face wavering between elation and concern. She leans forward in the viewscreen. "Spock, is everything alright? Are you ill? How are you feeling? I can board a shuttle in –"

"Mother."

"Yes?" she says even as she stands.

"I feel fine."

And he does.


End file.
